Bookshelf
by Lendra-chan
Summary: A bookshelf can have an unlimitted amount of levels. Each level containing an unknown bundle of stories. Here, each story is told, one shelf at a time. Drabbles ichiruki Book Seven: We should be lovers! Ichigo began clawing at the carpet to scramble free
1. On Tip Toes

**A/N**: Hey folks! Well, I've done it. I'm actually starting another story. Stupid, huh?

Yeah, maybe. I feel horrible for not updating any of my Kenshin fanfictions, but I just need to get back in the mood of Kenshin. I never thought I'd see the day where I'd move on!

Well, let's hope I'm not moving on, just at a stand still.

Anyway, this story doesn't particularly follow a dead set plot. It's simply little drabbles that I think up with Ichigo and Rukia all slapped together in this messy little story called **Bookshelf**.

Why Bookshelf you ask? Well you never know how many levels a bookshelf can have…or how many stories lie on each shelf.

Clever no? Naw, I didn't think so either. –laughed at myself here-

Anyway, I've rambled on for too long. I shall proceed with my messy drabbles now!

**P.S** – Any readers that want to give me clever **suggestions** just might see a chapter about them :3

ONWARD!

-

**Disclaimer** – I do not own Bleach, sadly. Nor do I own Ichi or Ruki. –sighs and plays harmonica again-

**Warning **– Severe height disadvantages.

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**First Shelf** - Book 1

**On Tip Toes **

**

* * *

**

She had been staring at him all day.

He had noticed since second period. Whether she took note that he was aware of her constant gawking, however, he'd yet to discern.

He had brushed it off, though. He was used to the gaping and unrelenting gazes over the years. He had learned soon and had taken into account the fact that his physical appearance was a target for a festival of gossip.

Of course, Ichigo paid little to no attention to those kinds of useless rumors anyway. It did him no good.

But _she_ never stared; she never gossiped; she never questioned; she never judged. It was a part of her personality that he had come to…respect over time. Admire was too strong a word…or perhaps, too truthful; but he was too cowardly to bring that up for question.

No, she seemed quite comfortable being cushioned within the secrets that hummed between the two of them; and he liked that. They were his secrets – and then there was her own. And that was fine; at least until now.

He could tell there was a question pooling in her sapphire gaze; it was a deep color of ominous secrecy like a splash of violet on a colorless plane.

Ichigo was not a liar.

He may have avoided the complete truth from time to time; and was slowly developing as a black belt in the arts of denial.

But he was not a liar.

And in all truth, he was worried; worried about the secrets she was browsing for with her cool gaze.

His anxiety would lessen when he saw her little eyebrows quirk in a puzzled expression. But that was a rare occasion – unfortunately of course.

And so they walked home in silence; the afternoon sun seemed to blaze brighter and overbearingly hot compared to other days.

Ichigo brushed it off as a title wave of the summer season approaching.

Rukia was a quiet girl. She never really spoke out of turn. But as of now, Ichigo affirmed that she should fall into the habit and quickly. At least for the time being; silence was merely a grater on his nerves.

She had stopped and he had just noticed. He could hear his heart beat as he turned to look back at her – not even bothering to ask why she had become still.

"Ichigo-"

She said his name the way she had always said it; an easy snapping roll of the tongue like a cooperative contradiction.

She glanced up at him with that puzzled look again.

"Why…"

Ichigo waited – silent as he thought up ways to avoid her expected 'world crumbling' question.

"Why…are you so much taller than everyone else?"

Ichigo faltered. He stared at her in utter bafflement before quickly recovering his composure; nudging the book case that he held over his shoulder.

"Well maybe you're just a midget."

She glared at him; that glare that had become so familiar.

"Don't be wise, Ichigo. Answer the question!"

Ichigo straightened at her scolding; his anxiety forgotten and perplexity weaseling into its place. Her seriousness about retrieving the answer to the question was odd enough. But her demand of answers for that question itself was just…what did height have to do with anything?

"You're awkward enough in this world as it is. Why make it worse by asking such weird questions. Why so curious now?"

Rukia directed her gaze elsewhere – an action that Ichigo had come to recognize as timidity and an emotion akin to a defensive mousetrap that would spring if you reacted a certain way. Ichigo knew all about that first hand.

"Well…I happened to be on the way home from school, yesterday afternoon when I witnessed a high school couple at some little side vendor. The boy handed the girl some sort of cone shaped object and she smiled so brightly and kissed his cheek…"

She paused a moment, as if trying to take in the essence of Ichigo's silence and discern whether or not that was good or bad. His expression was quizzical and he seemed to be tuned into the story…in some way or another.

So she continued to explain with a clearing of her throat and a palm rested against her chest in reference to herself.

"Now, this girl was probably _my _height-"

"What, midget sized?"

She delivered an easy open-palmed slap to his head; no words exchanged through the familiar action as if it were a business like routine. Of course, a few sputters and nearly inaudible curses could be heard from Ichigo's pursed lips.

"Now the boy just took a bite of this cream like substance and grinned back at her…if it had been _you, _she probably would have _never _reached your face unless you bent down…"

Ichigo's mouth hung open in utter boredom.

"This is what that's all about. Because you saw two lovebirds dueling out their passion for one another…you decided to question my height. Great; got all worked up for nothing." The ending of his sentence was mumbled as he roved over his orange locks on the back of his head; feeling a small thread of sweat at his neck.

"Saying it like that makes me sound like a fool, Ichigo! It isn't something so trivial as that! And what is all this nonsense about being worked up?" Rukia seethed as she held a threatening fist up in her defense; the mousetrap aching to spring.

"Nevermind, just forget about it."

He snuffed as he placed his free hand on his hip while his other hand still gripped the bag, and looked off with an unreadable expression.

"If you're _that _curious, it's _most likely _because of the genetic make up of my parents that I received the gene that makes me tall. If that doesn't make sense to you…I'm tall just because I am. End of story. There, I answered your question. Happy?"

Rukia was reluctant to answer, but her silence was expected. Ichigo swiveled on the pavement so that he was facing the other direction and began to walk off; a relaxed-like slouch in his posture as if something heavy had been taken off his shoulders.

"C'mon, let's go."

It took Rukia only a moment to notice Ichigo's change in direction.

"Go where? That's not the way home…"

He waved a hand over his shoulder to reassure her in his own way. Rukia sniffed before she jogged to catch up with him; folding her arms and trying to act rather ruffled by Ichigo's curtness.

"All this talk of ice cream gave me a craving."

This time, Rukia faltered. She gazed up at Ichigo with questioning sapphire eyes.

"…Ice cream?"

-

She gave it a testing lick in the beginning and found that she had a new love for this…so called Ice Cream. What was her flavor? Cookies in Cream? She didn't care; it was good and Ichigo paid. He wouldn't have let her pay anyway.

"So _this _is ice cream. This is what those two were eating."

Ichigo glanced at her out of the corner of his eye as he took a boyish mouthful of his Mint Chocolate Chip. He shook his head and kept his thoughts to himself as he twisted the cone in his hand to lick around the dripping edges.

This time, he didn't notice her stare.

Rukia watched as he lifted the treat to his face, then let it drift back down to his side for a moment.

No, she decided, she wouldn't be able to reach Ichigo's cheek unless he bent down. But that didn't matter.

She gave a small grin as she licked the extra mint flavor from her lips to vanquish any evidence; enjoying the new mint flavor.

It didn't matter; she could still secretly reach his unguarded ice cream and take little tastes when he wasn't paying attention.

It was just in her reach; but only when on tip toes.

* * *

**A/N:** Well that's chapter one! On Tip Toes! Now, it's almost midnight, and I was supposed to be off an hour ago, but what the hell:D 

I actually really like how this came out. I'm quite proud of it. Ichi and Ruki are so cute sometimes x3

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!

I'm begging you :( Just a little review is all I want!

One itty bitty one!


	2. Tuxedo Umbrella

**Disclaimer** – I do not own Bleach or Ichigo's inner voice. Though his witty grandpa and uncle I do. :D Yay for original characters!

**Warning** – A temperamental teen, an insane girl with stiletto's and a sudden downpour.

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Book Two

**Tuxedo Umbrella **

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"Ichigo, what's happening…?" 

"Shh…"

"...Ichigo, I don't understand what's going on."

Her voice was a whisper, but it was just loud enough to cause a twitch in his eyebrow.

_"Shhhhh...!"_

Rukia pouted angrily at him and fell silent again.

She watched with analyzing sapphire eyes before she sighed and turned back to the tall boy next to her.

"Ichigo, what are they doing..."

"Would you shut it, Rukia?"

She growled and elbowed him in the side roughly.

"Jack-ass..." She muttered.

Ichigo stood high above her as he grunted and held his smarting side; glaring with amber eyes down on the shorter girl.

"...Hostile midget." He growled back.

The two stood in the second row pew of hushed church. They both watched in silence as a woman splashed in complete white and a man fitted in a contrasting black stood side by side; watching another man before them intently that Rukia learned was known as a Priest - after managing to weasel the title from Ichigo a little while ago.

She had learned that what they were attending was simply known as a 'Wedding' or something. Though everything else was left for her imagination to analyze and process on its own.

She sighed as the 'holy man' - a term Ichigo had used in reference to the priest - continued to spur out a constant stream of chants and prayers. She tugged on the sleeve of Ichigo's tux. "Ichigo, what is the pest doing...?"

Ichigo rolled his eyes and lowered his head to whisper to the shorter girl; irritation apparent in his hushed tone. "It's PRIEST you dummy, not pest. And he's blessing my uncle and new aunt in their marriage." That was the most explaining he had done during the ceremony. And smartly so; for that sentence alone had earned a glare in his direction from a girl in the pew in front of him.

The scratchy voice of the priest echoed through the church as he proclaimed the ending of the marriage vows. Rukia perked up at the sudden activity, tugging again at his sleeve. "What's happening now..?!"

Ichigo growled and whapped her hand away. "Shut it, moron! You need to be quiet!" He whispered harshly; biting his tongue to keep from groaning as she dug her heel into his foot. He growled and glared at her. "Violent fricken' dwarf...!" He hissed. She glared at him, testing his courage to continue with his insults.

Music started to ring through the air as Ichigo directed his attention back at his uncle and his new bride; thankful that he hadn't missed the kiss of their new matrimony. The mass part of the wedding had finally ended and a hushed murmur of the voices reverberated through the church. Finally, silence was no more. He whipped his head to the girl beside him and grabbed at the collar of her dress.

"You have to stay QUIET during mass you friggin' idiot! So many old people were giving me the cut throat death glare because of your endless questioning!" Ichigo snarled at her - trying to hold his gaze with her though finding it rather difficult to sustain a staring contest with her sapphire eyes. She glared and slapped his hand away.

"Don't be such a jerk, Ichigo! If you had simply explained what was happening before hand, I wouldn't have had to bother you so much!" Rukia growled. Ichigo huffed and straightened - the height difference between the two of them becoming quite apparent; possibly more so than before.

"Well you should have researched on 'weddings'. You SAID you were researching our world before, didn't you?" Ichigo shot back sarcastically.

Rukia glared at him. "Shut it, Strawberry." They sustained a continuous glaring contest for all of five seconds before an old, cackling voice interrupted them. They turned around to see a relatively tall (though still no match for Ichigo) old man who's posture was surprisingly unhindered by his old age; though he held a cane in his wrinkled hand regardless.

He gave them a bright grin as his eyes twinkled. "You two are getting along quite well I see, as always."

Ichigo brushed off the comment, though Rukia's eyebrows creased in puzzlement.

"Hey grandpa," Ichigo replied as he turned to face the man completely; hands folded in his pockets easily.

The man frowned and raised a full, hairy brow. " 'Hey grandpa' ?" He mimicked in a mocking voice and held out a hand to shake. "That's all your old man's old man gets? C'mon, Ichigo son, don't I get something a little more friendly? I mean, we're family after all!" Ichigo smiled slightly despite himself and stuck his palm into his grandfather's; his grip still as strong as he remembered.

The old man grinned and pulled Ichigo in to deliver a hardy pat on his back - nearly hauling him out of the pew. He then turned familiar amber eyes that he had passed down to Ichigo unto the girl, who had remained quiet in the aisle. "Ah! Rukia my dear! You're looking lovely as always." He smiled as he guided a sputtering Ichigo out of the way to approach the girl.

"Taking care of Ichigo I hope?" He said with a gleaming grin and took her smooth hand in his to kiss it in a "grandfatherly" like manner. Rukia blinked in confusion at his mannerism.

"Um...as best I can?" She answered hesitantly. The man laughed and waved off Ichigo as he tried to butt in and correct his accusation; knowing well that Ichigo was very tempted to scold him for being so forward with Rukia.

He smiled and took note of her done up hair. "Oh my, Rukia dear. Your hair looks so lovely in curls." She gave a small, very rare smile as she fingered her ebony locks carefully.

"...Thank you." It was sincere.

He smiled and nodded once more before turning around to a now fuming Ichigo. "C'mon, son; to the wedding party. You don't want to miss out on cake, do you?" He cackled as he walked toward the exit effortlessly.

Ichigo snorted as he watched him; his hands kept wisely stuffed in his pockets. "Flirtatious old geezer." He grumbled. Rukia walked up beside him and he glanced over at her; slowly taking note of the gleam in the swirl of her sapphire irises.

"I thought he was rather nice..."

Ichigo watched her a moment before pouting and letting his shoulders rise with a vaguely wounded ego; his steps rather hard. "C'mon, let's go." Rukia glanced at Ichigo before nodding and following him to the Wedding party.

When they had arrived, many people were already wandering about and talking among themselves rather chirpily; like a black parade of tuxedo's and cocktail dresses.

Ichigo stiffly lead himself and his tagalong over to where his uncle and new bride were comfortably engaged in chit-chat. He sauntered up to the conversation languidly and waited patiently for them to finish. "Hey Uncle Rono. Congratulations." He said as politely as he could muster; which was rather dull considering he was still rather sour from before.

His uncle turned to him and grinned brightly. "Hey! Ichigo! You came, boy!" He cackled as he threw an arm around his nephew's shoulders; nearly knocking him off balance. Ichigo coughed and gave him a traditional scowl. "Whaddya mean 'you came'?! It's your wedding and I'm your only nephew after all!"

His uncle brushed off his nephew's bitter comment and took note of the girl who was standing beside him; her attention directed toward the sky wistfully. He smiled as he let his arm around Ichigo fall as he approached the girl. "Well, who do we have here?"

Rukia turned at the voice and quickly put on her fake smile and curtsied as she had done all those days at school.

"How do you do?" Her tone was sugary sweet. It was phony; and Ichigo didn't like it.

His uncle saw it too.

The man smiled as he shook his head. "No need to be material." She blinked and stood up straight rather slowly. Rono smiled and turned back to his nephew. "Finally got yourself a girlfriend?" Ichigo faltered before he growled and walked up beside her.

"What, this midget? Never in a million years." Rukia glared and raised her small leg; plummeting her steak like heal into his foot once more. Ichigo yelped and grabbed her collar angrily. "You friggin' psycho! You're wearing stilettos! Do you know how much those friggin' kill?!"

Rukia scoffed as she whapped his hand from her collar. "Does my face reflect remorse? And stop grabbing my dress; you're wrinkling it.'

Ichigo seethed at her angrily as Rukia remained indifferent as she flicked a lock of navy hair from her face. Suddenly, his uncle's bellowing laughter interrupted their squabbling. Ichigo watched with his regularly narrowed eyes as his uncle placed an approving palm on Rukia's bare shoulder. "I like you! Rukia, was it? You're alright." Rukia blinked and glanced at Ichigo; equally perplexed that he knew her name.

Ichigo paused a moment before placing a hand on his uncle's shoulder. "Wait, I never mentioned Rukia's name in a sentence before... You know her how?" His uncle blinked before grinning and slapping his nephew's back again. "Boy, you must think I'm stupid. Pop tells me that you talk about her all the time! How could I **not** know?" Ichigo went numb and then he saw red.

"He **WHAT**?!"

-

Ichigo whipped around the yard in search of the old man; intent on ripping the cane from his bony grasp and beating him with it to his hearts content. When he spotted the old man among a group of Champaign drinkers, all of which Ichigo knew personally (all laughing as well), he booked it at fast speeds toward him.

"**OLD MAN**!"

His grandfather turned and grinned brightly, waving a hand in his direction.

"Hey! Speak of the devil! We were just talking about you, Ichigo!"

_Why the hell am I not surprised? _Mentally, Ichigo cursed.

Ichigo did not slow down in the least. He stampeded through their gathering with gusto and latched onto his grandfather's collar, hauling him off forcefully

Once they were mostly in private, or at least away from most people by a good number of feet, Ichigo let go of his grandfather's collar and held up a fist threateningly.

"What the **HELL** do you think you're doing, Old Man?!" He was fuming at this point.

His grandfather raised an old brow as he brushed off his tuxedo after Ichigo had released it. "Why, I don't know what you're talking about. You nearly killed your grandfather of a heart attack!" He said with a little less care than expected. Ichigo glared brutally. "You know damn well what it is I'm talking about."

The old man cocked his head slightly. "...You couldn't possibly mean the incident where you were pushed into the fountain at your neighbor's barbeque and had to strip down to your boxers before you caught--" Ichigo growled and flushed profoundly, waving his arms. "NO, damnit! I'm talking about Rukia!!"

His grandfather paused a moment, as if wondering what he meant. He glanced over his shoulder to look at the girl whom Ichigo was speaking. She had seemed to allow the previous events slip her mind as her she searched the sky again; just as children did. He then turned back to Ichigo and grinned.

"Oh! Right! What is it that I was spreading again? My memory seems to be failing me in my old age."

Ichigo growled and flexed his fingers as his eyes twitched. "Don't play wise ass with my, geezer. You know DAMN well what you've been spreading."

His grandfather waved him off and folded his arms. "I apologize, Ichigo. But the way you two were acting, an old man can only assume so much! So you two are not an item?"

Ichigo gave a crazed smile as his teeth ground together in pent up rage. "NO! I don't even **like** her!"

_Liar…_rang a diminutive voice named Conscience. Ichigo did not like Conscience.

His grandfather watched him a moment longer before he took on an air of seriousness; vaguely ignoring the very faint laugh of thunder in the background (so faint, Ichigo had missed it with his deep breathing). "Ichigo...it does not become you...to lie to ones self."

Ichigo watched his grandfather with a puzzled expression. "What are you talking about..?" The sun was slowly blanketed by rain clouds that were long ago spotted by sapphire eyes. Ichigo's grandfather glanced up at the sky and nodded before taking Ichigo's hand and pulling him in to whisper - "Don't miss your chance, boy..." And with that said, he pulled away and walked off, leaving Ichigo puzzled.

The thunder was much louder this time - and the rain clouds had reached the wedding area; a few people taking note of the sudden darkness but paying no mind to it. Ichigo watched as his grandfather sauntered away under the shelter of a small gazebo, along with his uncle and new wife.

Ichigo was suddenly brought out of his thoughts as a droplet hit his face. He barely glanced up at the sky in question before the heavens let loose in a sudden downpour. The wedding attendants yelped and slouched to uselessly avoid the rain - scattering all about and cramming in under the gazebo. Ichigo cursed and held his hands over head to shield at least his vision from the rain.

He darted toward the stationary girl who continued to stare into the sky as she quickly became drenched in the pouring rain.

"Hey, idiot! Don't just stand there!" Ichigo called out to an immobile Rukia. She turned to look at him but that only lasted a moment; he did not bother to wait for her reply. Instead, he snatched her wrist and hauled off toward the church. Once they reached the front doors, he gently let her wrist go only to tug at doors that would not open.

"LOCKED!?" Ichigo burst out, taken aback by such an absurdity. Had the priest really bailed just like that after the mass and locked the doors? What if someone left something in there? Didn't he think of that?

"Ichigo…"

"Damnit!" Ichigo hissed and decided to waste no more time trying fidget with stubborn doors. He grabbed Rukia's slim wrist and hauled her off again.

"Ichigo, slow down! What's so bad about getting wet?" Rukia finally piped up; huffing to catch her breath as she barely managed to keep up with Ichigo's speed.

"Shut it! I'd rather not have to worry 'bout you catching a cold! I've got enough things to worry about at the moment…!" His fiery glare was directed toward the gazebo where he knew, without doubt, the old geezer was watching with amusement and a bubbly chuckle.

The church was locked, home was too far, the gazebo was filled; and Ichigo would be damned if he would spend up close and personal time with his grandfather (and with Rukia in tow) just for a little shelter.

Ichigo groaned as he narrowed it down to his last option. It seemed as though the natural shelter of the Weeping Willow tree grove behind the church was his last resort. Without a word, Ichigo tugged Rukia along behind the church and dashed under the sheltering arms of the willow.

"Geez…It came on so suddenly…" Ichigo muttered mostly to himself as he flicked his hands to rid of excess water; moving on to flab the folds of his tuxedo jacket for the same reasons. He glanced at Rukia for only a moment before looking off; attempting to ignore the growing silence with only the gentle hush of the rain in the foggy surroundings.

Rukia said nothing. She let her sapphire gaze that, not a minute before, gazed into the limitless distance of the sky without shame, drift down to the blunt boundary of the cold wet ground. She wrapped her slim arms around her torso and gently let her apologetic blue's rove over Ichigo's abstracted form.

"Ichigo…listen."

Her voice was soft and he barely caught it. But he hadheard and he turned to face her. "Hm?"

There was a moment of uncertainty before her gentle voice interrupted the rain again. "…I'm sorry. I spotted those rain clouds first and didn't bother to say anything. I didn't know getting wet was such a terrible thing…"

Guilt. That was the emotion that twiddled in with his heavy sigh. Getting wet _wasn't _terrible…but the way she stood so fittingly in the rain; he didn't know if he was ready to face that just yet. So he acted off impulse and plucked that unsure emotion as if it were a growing weed.

_Don't miss your chance, boy…_

The old man's words rang in his head like cathedral bells. He hung his head and held in a groan of frustration. Had he already missed it…? Was his chance already over?

She shivered. The late July rain was warm and tropical, but she still shivered despite its warmth. No, Ichigo considered; he could still redeem himself.

He gently shook off his tuxedo jacket and carefully placed the large coat onto her small shivering frame. She was surprised and cocked her head over her shoulder to give him a bewildered look. Ichigo jerked back at her pensive stare and coughed; shoving his hands into his trouser pockets quickly.

"Don't gimme that look. You were shivering and like I said, I'd rather not want to worry about you getting sick."

She stared at him just a moment longer; drinking in his rugged profile. She smirked and shook her head; a small chuckle escaping pink lips.

Amber eyes glanced at the girl whose cheeks were now a rosy red. "What." Though a demand, it did not sound like one coming from him.

"Nothing, I just think you're right." She cuddled herself into the warmth of the tuxedo that smelled of a distinct ginger cinnamon; perhaps a touch of ironic strawberry. "….It would be a pain to get sick," She concluded.

Rukia tittered as Ichigo hummed in unarticulated agreement. She gripped the jacket close and perked her lips in thought; a beam lacing into her eyes.

It **did** make a rather nice umbrella.

And her smile was not material.

* * *

**Lendra-chan**: Well there's chapter two! I actually wrote this story for a friend because she randomly IMed me one day saying 

'Alendra…tell me a story. One with a wedding and a witty grandpa:)' And I randomly abided by her request. I'm nice like that –shrugs- XD

Anyway, PLEASE REVIEW! I don't exactly know if churches actually close that quickly, but in this chapter, they do!

Oh, and **HAPPY EASTER** EVERYONE!


	3. Cookie Quandaries

A/N : So I'm not getting as many reviews as I'd hoped for, but I'm pretty happy with the amount! I mean, this is basically my first story for bleach and fifteen reviews for the second chapter is pretty encouraging!

Though the amount of hits in comparison is like 'WOW xx;'

Anyway, onward with the next chapter! And when I say suggestions, I mean ideas for this story and their next chapters:D

**Disclaimer** – I do not own bleach, Ichigo or his amazing hair.

**Warning** – Midgets operating an oven

* * *

Book Three

**Cookie Quandaries **

* * *

"Turn on…now." 

Nothing.

"Okay…_now." "_

Still; nothing.

"Oh for the love of all soul reapers, _please _turn on?"

Even with the rarity of her pleading, the idle oven did not abide.

"You're driving my patience, idiotic contraption!"

The 'idiotic contraption' was not phased by her threat; a true warrior amongst its brethren machinery.

"That's it! I've had _enough _of this ridiculous behavior!" Rukia raised her grease-covered wooden spoon to set the disobedient mechanism straight. However, the wooden ladle was abruptly snatched from her mighty grasp and she was nearly thrown off balance because of it.

"Down, Midget; down. Control yourself, no need to get violent!"

Rukia whipped frustrated sapphire eyes up to domineering cinnamons. She huffed and turned to face the boy fully – forgetting momentarily that her spoon had been confiscated.

"Ichigo, this … _thing _is _not _obeying my orders!" She seethed as she whipped an angry index finger to the opposing kitchen equipment. Ichigo raised an orange brow and glanced over to where her finger pointed – giving a stare of boredom before turning back to her and snorting in mockery of her struggles.

"What, the oven?"

"Yes! This _oven _has not turned on once! And I even said _please," _She explained to the human boy with embellished gestures of her hands. Ichigo folded his arms and shook his head as he watched the girl – tapping the ladle patiently against his elbow.

"This sure as hell is not as 'calming' and 'uplifting' as that damn catalog claimed it to be!"

Ichigo rubbed his temples and finally stepped in to silence Rukia's ranting complaints with his regular insults.

"Calming and uplifting are two traits that specifically do not apply to you, Rukia. And what catalog are you talking about?"

Rukia glared at him and folded her arms over her various ingredient stained apron.

"I found this cooking catalog that your little sister left out and I flipped through it. I found this article thing about cooking and how it affects you. It also listed some entrées and recipes to try out."

"So you randomly decided you were going to attempt to cook-"

She nodded.

"Without having any prior knowledge in the culinary arts field-"

She nodded again.

"Even with the risk of hurting not only yourself, but possibly setting the house on fire-"

There was hesitance, but she gave another nod; it was much smaller this time.

"Rukia, I oughtta strangle you! What the hell do you wanna cook from that catalog anyway!" He waved the spoon around in majestic anger as he peered down heatedly at the girl.

"I was making cookies!" She attempted to size him up as she said this, but it was barely taking away from the magnitude of height difference. He waved his arms as dramatically as she did with his next question.

"Why the hell are you making cookies?"

She huffed and turned away from him; planting her hands on her hips irately.

"I can't tell you that, it's a secret."

"Rukia, if you do not explain to me why the hell you're risking the discovery of your existence in my house, my humanity in _explaining _your existence in my house, and _burning _my house _down_, so help me god," Ichigo whipped the spoon at her and conducted it threateningly as he said this.

Rukia growled, grabbed the spoon from his grasp and delivered a heartfelt whap on his carroty head.

"For your birthday, dammnit!"

Ichigo hissed and cussed as he held his smarting head. However, at her words, he stopped momentarily. As he straightened out his hunched over form, he attempted to greatly ignore the small pang in his heart that initiated at her words.

"Rukia…-"

She huffed and crossed her arms; turning swiftly on her heels so her back was facing him.

"Rukia…my birthday …was almost two weeks ago."

"I know that!" She yelped angrily and threw her hands into the air; frustrated at Ichigo's lack of compliance and remorse for her vexing quandaries.

"Then why bother to make them now?" He planted a firm palm on his waist and waved the other one around to emphasize his question. Rukia rolled her sapphire blues and turned back to him; pointing the spoon at him threateningly.

"Ever heard the phrase 'it's better late than never'? Now diminish your ego while I swallow my pride and attempt to bake these cookies without asking for your stupid help."

Ichigo stared at her back wistfully as she snatched the open catalog from the flour covered counter and tinkered with the oven once again. He sighed and ran a hand through his orange locks; giving a sigh as he sauntered over to her form and seized the catalog from her hand.

"Give me that," He said with barely any force. He ignored Rukia's protests and read the oven instructions to himself before voicing them as he acted them out.

"Preheat oven to 375 degrees…" His voice was drawling out as he pressed the buttons. He turned to Rukia with his usual look of endurance; as if he was using every ounce of patience he had left to deal with such trivial matters.

"You have that cookie dough ready or what?"

Rukia stared at him in bewilderment for a moment before she nodded enthusiastically.

"Y-Yeah, just a second!"

She turned around and grabbed the cookie sheet filled of already, quite neatly laid out circular clumps of cookie dough. Ichigo stared at the dough with a bored expression, though surprise was evident in his gaze for those who knew him.

Rukia knew him, and knew him well.

"Surprised?" Her tone was haughty.

Ichigo snorted ignorantly and grabbed the cookie sheet from her grasp. She snickered to herself and watched as he opened the oven door and slid the cookie sheet in with ease; a sign of experience with helping Yuzu and perhaps Karin with _their_ cooking.

"Alright, let's get started."

And with that, he confirmed the start of their cooking process with the press of an oven button.

-

It was a couple hours into the evening and the kitchen was empty.

In the end, the cookies had burned due to the negligence of the two. They had delved into a full blown argument over a trifling matter that had been blown out of proportion to be something much greater in scale and significance.

However, the two had been abruptly pulled from their bickering when smoke started to puff from the oven. They both had scrambled over to the utensil in a frenzy and threw open the oven door, only to find the batch of Rukia's hard works worth of cookies had been burned to a crisp.

The charcoal remains were in the rash, the cookie sheet in the sink and the place was quiet.

Ichigo sighed as he slowly opened the door to his room; toweling his orange locks of excess water from his shower just moments ago. Rukia had taken residence in the bath in his stead where he stood guard before the door – acting as an outlook for his family in front of the threshold.

However, his family was particularly inattentive to him that day, and after seven minutes or so of guarding with no sound and soul passing by, he decided to retreat back to the bedroom.

He entered the cool room and padded over to his bed where he stood there a moment to really ruffle out the wet tendrils. His eyes were closed as he did so, but as soon as his cinnamon eyes perked open, he spotted something foreign placed on his bed.

He stared at it, unsure of whether or not to address it personally or wait until Rukia had returned; lest it be something pertaining to her own field of business.

However, he was quickly detoured from that assumption when he spotted a sadly tied bow around the object that screamed 'hard trials-little payoff' which in turn, reiterated the full being of Rukia just _living _in his world. He reached down and plucked the item from his bed sheets and brought it up to eye level; pulling off the towel with his free hand.

"What the hell is this…?" His question was not malicious, simply curious in his own way; and barely exceeded past a mutter to himself. He flipped the item over in his hand and orange brows raised in surprise.

Wrapped in the flopping red ribbon was, in fact, a cookie. It was burned, just as all the rest, but mostly just around the edges. Attached to the small treat was a minute note, decorated with signature Rukia doodles. Ichigo snorted as he removed the piece of paper from the object and placed it beside him as he sat down onto the mattress to read the message.

_Hey, don't get the wrong idea, fool_

_So I couldn't find any of Yuzu's cookies anywhere, and your house isn't exactly the domain for sweet delicacies. So I picked the least burnt cookie from the bunch. Hope you like the taste of charcoal because you're not getting any better than that from me. I've worked my butt of looking for something at least a little more decent than this thing, trust me. _

_Well, you don't have to eat it, but regardless, Happy Birthday. _

Ichigo stared at the very ending of the note and grin tugged at the corners of his lips. The girl had been extremely indecisive on how to end the note. For in the place of regards before you write your name there were several crossed out words before she finally decided on one fitting enough just below the line of scribbles.

"What are you standing there for? Your brain finally kick the bucket?"

Ichigo jumped slightly at Rukia's voice and sighed – turning his nose up at the girl and folding his arms stoutly.

"Damnit, Rukia, how many times have I told you to knock before coming in here." The note had been skillfully stuffed into the back pocket of his boxer shorts and out of sight. Rukia gave him a face and twisted the water from her locks. She had Yuzu's pajamas on again and they stuck to her from the water she had failed to wipe off before hand.

"You only tell your sisters that. I'm not your sister, Ichigo," she replied in an 'as-matter-of-fact' tone. She then shook her head from side to side vigorously – shaking out her short ebony locks and taking dull note of the water she sprayed in all directions.

Ichigo growled and shielded his face with his hand. Of course she wouldn't actually take into consideration that he was a growing boy and not only did he need his space, he needed much thinking time; especially when she was involved. But Rukia wasn't particularly one to let stuff like that deter her. She was oblivious to remorse anyway.

"Whatever; from now on, knock."

Rukia snorted and threw the closet door open and hopped inside. She turned gave him a smirk of defiance.

"I think not. This room is as much mine as it is yours for the time being, with me sleeping here, changing here, finishing homework here; you understand. Now you have a wonderful night. Sleep tight!" Her voice was a mocking chirp as she slammed the closet closed; quite pleased with herself.

She didn't see the amusement in Ichigo's eyes and the pull at the corner of his lips. He shook his head and flopped down onto his bed with a graceless exhaustion. He grabbed the wrapped gift and pulled at the ribbon strips to take the cookie from its holdings and pop it into his mouth. He then swiped the note from his back pocket and raised his arms up vertically to read the note at a distance – the large cookie held between his lips and teeth easily.

He read it over a few more times before he snorted and shook his head; placing the note beside his bed table and snapped off a piece of the cookie with his mouth to consume it.

"Stupid little confusing midget…"

He muttered so between crunches. He was much too lazy to get up and brush his teeth afterward, and with that decided, Ichigo shifted onto his side once he was finished and licked his fingers.

He knew he'd have a stomach ache in the morning. But it was worth it.

_Well, you don't have to eat it, but regardless, Happy Birthday. _

…

_Love, _

_Rukia._

* * *

**Lendra – **Soooo…yeah. Reaaally cliché ending, I'm sorry. ): I tried to think of something different but, ah, it wasn't comin' to me. 

Forgive me!

PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW? I really love to hear/read feedback from my readers!

Please and thank you!

And thank you to all of those who HAVE reviewed!


	4. Boozy Blues in Chicago

**Lendra-chan** – Yeah, so … I updated much faster than some would expect. A though just hit me and I immediately wanted to get it down on…paper? Ah, anyway.

IT'S ME BIRFDAY:D .. Well, JUNE FOURTH IS MEH BIRFDAY. I am 16 at 6:13pm June 4th which now passed! Hoorah:

Okay, so - This little tid bit of writing is AU! Yay for Alternate Universes! Hur Hur

Onward!

**Disclaimers** – I do not own Ichigo, Rukia, or their amazing awesomeness. Though I do own the idea that Ichigo is now a PIANIST! Like moi :

**Warnings **– AU and people are older than they were – the horrors! Also, language could get rowdy.

* * *

Book Four

**Boozy Blues in Chicago**

* * *

"Gimme a B-52." 

Turquoise eyes glared down at the half-sedated man.

"No."

"_Please," _he added with slurred sarcasm.

"No. You're drunk."

"How 'bout a Black Jack-"

"_No, _dammnit!" He was really testing the short bartender's patience.

"Smoking Loon Merlot?"

"I said no, you-"

"Martini?" His voice proceeded higher with every plea for a drink.

"Dammnit all, Kurosaki, you're going to drink yourself down the friggin' Mississippi River. You've had _enough. NO._"

The man leaning against the bar with his palm loosely encircling around an otherwise empty glass of melting ice snorted loudly and glared bloodshot amber eyes to his white haired friend.

"Sheesh; who shoved the icicle up _your _ass?" He asked mostly to himself as he sloshed the ice cubes around in a circular motion.

The bartender glared as he stuffed his towel covered hand into the hollowed out section of a glass.

"_You _and your relentless drinking after _closing hours._"

A snort came from the drunken male as he brought his lips to the rim of the cup – attempting to get the last drops of his remaining drink before clacking it down onto the counter.

"I thought you were open until 3:00am on Weekends."

"2:30am. Half an hour change since Hisagi left the bar in my charge."

Ichigo snorted and propped himself abruptly against his open palm and continued to fiddle with his glass.

"_2:30am _then—" He muttered something afterwards about enjoying Hisagi's hours better which earned a short lived glare from the boy across from him.

The white haired male sighed and tinkered around restlessly behind the bar counter as he cleaned up the mess his friend and also stubborn customer had made; when everyone else had returned home for the night.

"I _am _when it's not nearing the holidays, Ichigo. You _know_ the hours are changed to 1:00am."

"Hmph," he grunted indifferently as he brought the cup to his lips again. However, the glass was snatched from his palm. Ichigo glared up at his friend whom he demoted at that moment. For the time being, anyway.

"Ass-hole," he had growled between his teeth as he sunk down into the sanctuary of his folded arms on the counter; not breaking his glare for the vigorously working male. All those who were not Toushiro knew to never get in the way of Ichigo and his Dixie Dew's when he was determined to get a memory obliterating hangover.

"You'll be thanking me for this later." There was confidence in his tenor voice, though little remorse dabbled in with it. He grabbed several glasses between his fingers and carried them over to the sink quickly on the other side of the bar. Ichigo grunted and hid his face in his arms – his forehead pressed comfortably against his forearm as his shocking hair stuck out like an unhinged contrast against the reality hair colors.

"What the hell happened anyway? You just barged in here and ordered the heaviest liquor we had. I mean, screwed up is your function, Ichigo, I know; but _something's_ thrown you out of your loop."

Ichigo gave a grumble through the material of his forearm and shifted his head to rest in the opposite direction. Hitsugaya Toushiro, an old friend of his from high school leaned over the counter and stared at the fiery carrot top – obviously befuddled with the quirk from his lip.

"…Is it Inoue?"

Ichigo shook his head profoundly.

"We broke that off over a month ago . . . we never really had anything past friendship anyway; too awkward."

Hitsugaya's turquoise eyes narrowed as he bowed his head just a little lower.

"It's that dancer, isn't it," he stated; his tenor voice low and heavy.

Ichigo stilled.

Hitsugaya's eyes hazed and his head dropped knowingly in the familiar behavior of his long time friend.

"Ichigo…you've been hung up about this girl since last April."

Ichigo rolled his eyes and glared at his white haired friend. It irritated him when he'd criticize him, but it further annoyed him when Hitsugaya referred to her as though he had only knew of her through tales and vague, distant sightings of her.

"I _met _her last April, Shiro…" He buried his head into his forearms and scowled as he grumbled in a second response. "-and I am _not _hung up."

Hitsugaya raised an eyebrow at his orange haired friend and grunted

"You drink more hard liquor rounds than I can count on my fingers and toes and then try to tell me you're not hung up. Hung_over _seems to be your specialty these days."

Hitsugaya snickered at the pun as Ichigo gave him a sneer and turned away from him; falling silent in the haven of his forearms. Hitsugaya watched him a moment before the grin slowly melted away from his face. He sighed and pushed off the bar to saunter over on the other side of his nearly sedated friend where his angry cinnamon glare was directed.

"Ichigo, I know… she…Rukia was very, very talented; she _is _very talented. And everyone seemed to have her charm grow over them like a weed on Miracle Grow – she became more a part of us here than anyone I think I've ever known." Ichigo sniffed and rotated his head to glare in the other direction – half wanting to hear what Hitsugaya had to say, and half wanting to gag him until he choked on his own tongue.

The former decision presided. Hitsugaya was rarely in the mood to talk, let alone _admire_ someone.

Hitsugaya growled and switched over to the other side of Ichigo once again to gain his full attention the best he could.

"But _Chicago, _Ichigo? What do _we _have to offer? Chicago's roots can only run so deep – and she was still growing. She came here to get discovered…and even though it took over a year to do so, it happened," he took in a deep breath and paused before he slapped his palm against the bar on each syllable of his next words.

"_San Francisco, _Ichigo. Talent Scouts from San Francisco found her _here_. Do you know the possibility of that happening?"

That was nearly a slap in the face. Ichigo knew, probably better than anyone, the torrent against the odds. Hitsugaya had silenced himself at his last statement, knowing the true impact of his words and wishing, only for a moment, that he could take them back. He shook his head, however, and continued.

"She had to cut ties, Ichigo. We were the reason she hesitated…if she didn't get out as quickly as she did…I don't think she could have left."

"She left without saying a goddamn word, Shiro! One doesn't up and leave like that! Not after all that happened…"

Ichigo shook his head and pounded a fist onto the bar countertop and lifted his head a bit higher than it was to stare up at the ceiling with a look of disdain. He resembled a man who had caught up in a mudslide of continuous degrading. His life had taken dramatic dips like that before, though the hazy cloud of depression never clung to him as fervently as it had then.

Ichigo was _really_ liking the backing of the barstools; gave him something to lean on.

"Four fucking months…"

Hitsugaya's eyes narrowed in confusion.

"What does four months have to do with anything? I know she _left _four months ago…but why _four _months to come booze yourself sick?"

Ichigo sighed and jerked his head down from the ceiling and pushed off the supportive backing to the stool he was perched upon. He groaned and threaded a hand through his orange locks; roving over the short spikes at the base of his neck. Ichigo desperately wanted a drink to fidget with.

"She was supposed to be back today. Just to confirm her final arrangements to move out of Chicago permanently… she never showed."

Hitsugaya rolled his eyes and shook his head. He sighed as he dropped his elbows against the countertop and rubbed his temples.

"Ichigo, you need to _move. On. _We all loved Rukia, but Californian celebrities and past Chicago acquaintances don't mix. Get back with Inoue! She's good to you; and god knows, she may be good _for _you!"

Ichigo growled and slapped a hand onto the counter.

"I _told _you! It was way too awkward! Orihime is only a friend now and that's the way it should stay!"

"The only reason it was awkward was because she knew you were sleeping with Rukia when you were dating," Hitsugaya scoffed, growing rather bitter at his good friend's stubborn persistency to avoid any subject and suggestion that involved his possible progression. Otherwise known as 'forgetting Rukia completely.'

"Dammnit all, Toushiro, that only happened once! We were hysterical from the hit night performance and completely wasted to boot! Now gimme another fucking drink!" Ichigo had stood from his stool at that point; sizing his rather short friend up rather easily.

However, Hitsugaya didn't stand down. Ever since Hisagi had entrusted the bar in Hitsugaya's possession three months prior, he had been used to many a beating both verbally and occasionally, physically.

"Shit, Kurosaki, we are _not _coming full circle with this! I told you no before and my answer remains the same!"

Ichigo hissed and glared at the boy.

"Don't _make _me go violent drunk on you!"

Fists had been imbedded themselves into the fabric of each others shirts. However, they were distracted from their spout when the bell of the front door jingled and a little wrapped up bundle scurried in from the cold; turning their back to them to shut the door quickly to prevent the November snow from intruding the warm bar.

The bundled up being panted slightly and slowly started to remove the beanie hat and scarf; speaking gently as they did so.

"I'm sorry, Hisagi! I know your sign says you're closed, but your lights were on and I noticed your door was unlocked so I came in. I hope you don't mind, the snow storm's gotten wicked all of the sudden!"

She turned around mid sentence, "I had forgotten just how bad the weather—"

Lips froze and words ceased from collecting. Hat hair was an issue she never fussed over with such dark ebony locks that framed her familiar face. And pale cheeks were painted a rosey pink.

And from there, sapphire eyes reconnected with the cinnamons for the first time in four months.

There had never been, Ichigo decided, four months that had felt like an eternity.

* * *

**TBC**

* * *

**Lendra-chan**: omg, can't talk, it's late, gonna get grounded if I'm caught AH! Zomg, I've had this idea for so long! I love it! 

PLEASE REVIEW TO GET THE NEXT CHAPTER!

THANKS!


	5. BBCII The Pianist and the Dancer

Lendra-chan: PLEASE READ THIS, MY KIDDIES. H'okay folks. It seems that many a-you have not realized that this is a two part chapter. Hurr hurr, boozy blues continues.

I'm sorry for those who didn't enjoy it as much as the other chapters, but fluffy marshmallow mush and cutesy situations will get old after a while – I like to keep a balance.

You're gonna see a lot of different material in this. Most of it, though, is gonna be romantic humor because that's where I need work.

You'll see AU situations where Ichigo could be a chemist student-teacher and Rukia's a valiant pupil and their chemistry mixes (horrible pun, I know. I apologize.) Or another AU situation where Rukia's an actual ghost and Ichigo can't seem to get her off his back – and soon starts to enjoy her deadly company (oh the puns! –holds heart-)

Anyway, the point is, just keep your minds open for different possibilities. I love to experiment with new ideas and suggestions that some people make that I like.

Like what HinduGoddess and sanriochica333 suggested. I really like the idea HinduGoddess came up with, of Rukia dragging Ichigo to go shopping then being pulled into the lingerie department. Clever and evil!

But regardless, I proceed with Boozy Blues Part II

YES I SPELLED SAN FRANCISCO WRONG BEFORE SHUTUP.

**Disclaimer **– Oh, must I recite such pains again? You know the drill.

**Warnings **– Slight language, I s'pose. And heart breaking trials to travel D:

* * *

Book Four Part **II**

**Boozy Blues in Chicago II**

The Pianist and the Dancer

* * *

_His fingers danced like professional marionettes with no strings attached over the parade of black and white keys. _

_He could feel the jolt of the felted hammer swinging up to chime a taught string through the pads of his finger tips – the sound; a resonation note that mingled harmoniously with the jamboree of melodic tunes all collaborated together to form a movement. _

_His eyes did not see anything as he bowed his form and roved his hands over the complicated instrument. His voice was singing; slightly low, and clear. It was young sounding, as if his voice had refused to intone beyond the produced sounds of his teenaged years. _

_However, he didn't mind. It was soft yet powerful as he sang in accordance to his playing; an alluring, haunting sound that had your ears ringing. It was cliché, he concluded, when he heard someone mention that it could be akin to that of a "fallen angel". _

_He laughed at that, shook his head and took one more sip of his scotch. She had to be but nineteen. Blond hair and green eyes with a brunette friend; her hair was the same as her irises. _

_Many other people, and not just the females, had whispered about his talents – wishing how they harbored the same. Dreamed that they could, perhaps one day, play and sing as he did; ignoring their own gifts within the eclipse of his own. _

_She didn't care about that. She didn't loom and she didn't wish and linger. She had her talent, and she didn't let the quality and quantities of the abilities around her dissuade her from performing such aptitudes. _

_She had burst in after a downpour. _

_He had heard that they were earning another source of talented entertainment for the night performances at the café. The café resembled more of a small diner than anything – it was famous for the birth of upcoming stars. _

_She didn't look like a star, drenched from head to toe and gasping for breath. He pointed that out to her – probably not the best first impression. _

_And even though he said that he hated her as he rubbed the sore spot on his head, a little bleeding leak of respect had started to pool after she hit him. _

_She didn't take crap from anyone. _

_Not even from the man whose voice could be akin to that of a "fallen angel." _

_And that was saying something; at least in Ichigo's eyes. _

_No matter how hot headed she was and how condescending she acted toward him, Ichigo was not going to lie to himself – not after everything that happened. She danced beautifully. He pointed that out to her too. _

_She hit him again, and told him not to be stupid. He got angry and vowed that he'd never compliment her again. Not the lunatic dancer girl – she didn't take Ichigo's rare compliments to heart._

_That pissed him off and intrigued him at the same time. This, in turn, pissed him off even more. Sooner or later, he could be found digging his own grave. _

_And so he kicked himself hard, less than a year later, when he found himself complementing her on the way she kissed. She smiled that time and said that he kissed better, and resealed the gap between their mouths. _

_No, she definitely said that to humor him. Or so Ichigo would like to have assumed._

_Probably the only time she complemented him directly, though. She had complemented him many times before, just by saying his name. That alone had begun to send a butterfly brigade of fireworks in his stomach. _

"_Ichigo…"_

_Yeah, just like that. _

"_Ichigo…!"_

_His imagination was so keen, it was sure as hell tantalizing. _

"_Ichigo!"_

"Ichigo!"

Cinnamon eyes cracked open with so much potential behind the action, one would have been surprised that he only managed to crack them open half a centimeter.

But once they landed on the frenzied eyes of sapphire and the pouted lips of the dancer above him, they closed once again and he buried his face into the pillow.

"Fucking hangovers…creating stupid illusions."

Rukia gave a glare at the sedated boy. She surely wasn't an illusion and she most certainly wasn't a _stupid _illusion. She'd gone through a lot and did not deserve the title of a 'stupid illusion' out of the mouth of a drunken man.

As soon as he had laid eyes on her back at the bar, his cinnamon irises rolled back into his head and he passed out – spewed across the tavern floorboards. She went through rigorous back pains and consistent dragging to get him back to where he lay now – of course, Hitsugaya helped. She made sure to thank him for going out of his way to help her deliver Ichigo back to his apartment safely at such late hours. He waved her off and shook is head.

"It's fine, Kuchiki. Don't worry about it."

She glared at him and he coughed and corrected himself.

"_Rukia; _it's fine, Rukia." He folded his arms and looked off a moment. She stared at the floor for a few idle seconds before his tenor voice caught her attention once more.

"And Rukia…"

Her sapphire eyes connected with his turquoise, and his lips quirked into a cockeyed grin.

"Welcome back."

Rukia gave him a little smile before she sniffed and turned back to the sedated man.

"You're getting soft on me, Shiro. A bartender can't be soft, you know."

Hitsugaya would have normally rebelled against her statement and easily countered it with a monotone reply filled to the brim with sarcasm. However, his eyes remained supple.

"Everyone went soft when you came along…"

Rukia sighed and shook her head; reaching out to run her fingers through Ichigo's bright orange locks that jutted out from his pillow. He had probably fallen back unconscious with his face implanted into the cushion.

"I came here to get discovered, Toushiro. I used the materials that would be beneficial to me, I took the advantages that were presented and pounced on the opportunities that came about and I _got_ somewhere because of it…it's as simple as that."

Hitsugaya knew that she was lying; so did Rukia. His arms remained folded as his stare became distant and unreachable.

"Yeah, and everything you left behind was simple too."

Rukia froze as his voice echoed in her mind. It was near mockery and she knew he was floating in a state of sarcasm when he said it. The creaking of Ichigo's apartment door brought her from her reverie.

"That idiot still doesn't know…. We've kept it a nice secret for you."

And before she could thank him within the silence, the door clicked shut. He already knew she was thankful. Words did not need to express a thing.

Rukia stayed by Ichigo's bedside for a moment longer before she found herself getting antsy. She lifted herself from the bed and turned on her heel.

Everything was the same. She smiled and shook her head, expecting nothing different of the man passed out on the nearly supportive mattress. It was so old, his apartment; filled with so much history and class and time that seemed to creak and howl through the walls and floors.

She loved it. She loved the brick – the slanted overhanging walls that jutted into the roof. The way the floor creaked beneath her hot, stocking feet and cooled them slightly as she walked.

She rounded the corner of the brick wall that stood alone against the many sheetrock and reached out to run her fingers across the familiar, glossy black top of the polished Steinway piano.

Her fingers met air.

She turned her head and sapphire eyes widened to find an empty space where a beautiful piano once stood – a contrast to the old cracked and worn possessions among his apartment. It was the one thing he truly took care of; the one thing he truly treasured.

But there stood nothing to contradict the epic history of the apartment. No polished black painted cherry wood, no white keys and flipped up hood so one could watch as the taught strings were tapped by felted hammers; nothing.

"…_He flew over there, you know." _

Suddenly, the words of Abarai Renji, a coworker of Ichigo's and the man who had attempted to date and ended up befriending Rukia by fowl play and fist, had rushed back to her. He was the one who had picked her up from the airport, four days prior.

She closed her eyes and shook her head – her back falling against the cold support of the brick. It was a fresh memory, still pulsating dangerously.

"_What do you mean…?" _

"_Ichigo…He flew – over to San Francisco."_

_Pink lips paused on the ceramic edge of her cocoa mug. She did not take a sip, for she was suddenly much too sensitive to the heat. She pulled it away and scoffed – shaking her head._

"_Stop kidding around, Renji. Ichigo doesn't have that kind of money."_

_Onyx eyes glanced off as shoulders shuffled in the cold of a Chicago winter. His breath puffed a smoky white cloud through his scarf._

"…_He found a way…" _

_Rukia believed it all a joke at first and laughed – waving Renji off and replying in a state of jest._

"_What, did he sign himself up for prostitution?" Ichigo surely had a number of ladies, some who claimed to be close friends, who would surely give their wallet and watch to even have the false illusion that they owned him for a night. _

_At the redhead's silence and air of earnestness, however, Rukia's smile fell. Her gloved palms groped the mug as she shook her head; lips slightly agape._

"…_What did he do, Renji." Fear was evident in her voice. _

_He shook his head and continued walking; burying his face into the warmth of his scarf and raising his shoulders in a sad attempt to shield himself from the nipping cold. _

"_You'll find out." _

_It was silent between the two of them as they walked through the airport and toward the exit. Rukia's gaze had never left the rippling liquid of her cooling cocoa._

"…_He really flew over?"_

_Renji's gaze finally caught hers._

"_You're surprised?"_

_She did not answer him; and Renji did not question her and further as he shifted his elbows and carried her luggage effortlessly._

Rukia _had _been surprised.

Ichigo had the talent to go much bigger – he was certainly known well enough to ensure a larger contract with a larger company and production studio than the café, but for some reason, he preferred the life of a striving pianist. He had money – just not a lot.

Not enough to fly himself to San Francisco…

"_He laughed - or he tried to...when he said 'for a famous girl, she's really hard to find.'"_

Renji's words slowly breezed back to her.

_The luggage was in his car, but Rukia liked the feel of the snow beneath her feet and in the air she breathed. It was fresh, and had a complimentary taste with the cocoa which she had taken up to drinking once again._

_It had become rather cool, but every cup of hot chocolate she had since the day she clanked cocoa mugs with the dandelion head, she had finished until the very last drop._

_That October afternoon seemed as though it took place in childhood memories; the way his eyes gleamed as they watched her and sweet tasting lips (or so she imagined) were curled against the ceramic rim of the hot chocolate goblet while he took a sip to their vows._

_Those vows they had tarnished and shattered so shamelessly. _

"_Hey, what're you smiling about?"_

_Renji's voice penetrated her thoughts and it was only until he addressed it did she notice how her lips curled against the rim of her mug the same way his did over a year ago. She quickly looked up at him and stopped walking – her face almost a giddy vision of jubilance. _

"_Promise you won't tell."_

_She said as she lifted the mug away from her mouth. Renji gave her a weird look as he stuffed his fists into the folded fabric pockets of his corduroy jacket. _

"_Pardon?"_

"_Promise you won't tell Ichigo I'm. . . that I'm here! I want to surprise him at the holiday performance. . . kay?" _

_Renji's shoulders shifted back just slightly as his twisted lips of confusion sunk into the haven of his scarf._

"_Well what about Hisagi? And Hitsu--"_

"_They'll have to keep that secret too! Please, it's not that hard! Oh please, Renji?" _

_The redhead gave a long sigh as he shook his head, unbelieving of his thoughts before he looked at her once again and nearly groaned; utterly defeated by her sapphire gaze of childlike enthusiasm._

"_Alright, alright; I won't speak a word of your arrival. But if he finds out before hand, it's not my fault!"_

_His warning was passed off with a rather rare giggle as Rukia latched onto his arm and continued to trudge through the snow – a now undeniable grinning Renji in tow. _

He had stayed in San Francisco for over a week. Searching for her and using what money he had summed up to aid his cause. But after a simply week in the big city, he could no longer afford the time or the price to search much longer and flew back to Chicago; his head just a little bit lower and his eyes just a little bit darker.

No matter how comfortable the beds of the hotels were, he couldn't sum up more than three hours of sleep a night.

Rukia shook her head and rubbed her temples stressfully. He was going to kill himself at this rate. She glanced over her shoulder at the lump on the twisted contraption he called a bed. Rukia recalled that, no matter how much it didn't seem possible, it was quite a comfy mattress – though she had slept mostly on _him _rather than the bedding.

She walked over to him with stocking feet and stifled a laugh as she spotted his nose poking out of his jutted orange locks and his quirky lips slightly open at an odd angle as he slept.

Her fingers had inserted themselves into the mussed locks of his orange tresses and she smiled as he gave a deep breath that seemed to subconsciously whisper a welcome to the tender caress upon his scalp.

She laughed to herself and shook her head.

"You're silly, little berry. Pianists _need _their pianos, you know." She smiled as she scratched his head like she would a cat and he grunted in his sleep. She glanced over at the empty space in his apartment and shook her head.

"…they don't need dancers…Pianists don't earn their keep from dancers…they don't make music with dancers…" For some reason, her words sounded wrong to her as though they were cold and dead - and all the meaning behind them had fallen upon two pairs of deaf ears, whether they be unconscious or sentient to hear it.

She smiled before turning mischievous sapphire eyes that toned to a tricky indigo in the shadow as she leaned in to whisper against the shell of his ear.

"We'll just have to replace that little gap in that room, now won't we, little berry."

And Rukia wondered with a devious grin as she ventured out once again, that perhaps her lipstick kiss mark on his forehead would still be there by morning.

* * *

**TBC**

* * *

Lendra-chan: ACK! It's been so long! I'm sorry D: 

Well, this has become a trilogy, but the third chapter I won't post till after I post a few fluffy, not AU chapters for Ichi and Ruki. They're SO FRICKEN KYUT.

PLEASE REVIEW!


	6. Consequence of Late

**Lendra-chan** – So, I wrote this for the 12 days of Ichigo Torture on the IchiRuki community for Live Journal. It was for the silent treatment, and I don't think there's any other silent treatment worse than the one you get when someone is no longer there.

**Disclaimers –** OH TITE-SAN. WHY CAN'T I OWN THEM TOO?

**Warning** – Spoilers for chapters 260-269. Or otherwise, it's super emo and stuff. Oh, and it's short. Duh. XD

This takes place AFTER HUECO MUNDO.

* * *

Book Five

**Consequence of Late**

* * *

Ichigo's door opened and he stepped in. He was home - why didn't it feel like he was? His steps were an empty echo in his mind as they brushed against the cold boards of his floor. He dared to look at his closet. He felt the vomit in his throat and had to turn away, for he could feel his stomach slowly dying. 

When had he walked over to his desk? He didn't noticed - he was much too caught up in trying to swallow the permanent lump that had lodged itself in his throat.

Papers were scattered among his desk. Some crumpled, some stained, some fresh. Half of them consisted of poorly illustrated animal beings done with unsteady hands in quivering crayon. She used to love drawing for him. And he never said it, but he loved her drawing for him - made him feel eight years old again, when his mother was still alive and used to smile and laugh and pat his head gently when he passed his kid excuse of a misinterpreted masterpiece onto her.

When had he started shuffling through them? He didn't notice - he was much too busy trying to ignore the little voice that told him he missed her and wanted her there and needed her with him.

His fingers found a drawing that he had not seen before. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he slowly picked it up from the pile - a few flitting away as he drew it up from his dusty desk; had they been gone that long?

His heart gave a hard palpitation.

It was of them. In her own form of art, she had drawn them. Together, simply within each others two-dimensional company.

When had he started crying? He didn't notice - he was much too engrossed in attempting to ignore the fact that the drawings were smiling.

He held the crumpled paper with care and slowly brought it closer to him until his face pressed into it. He had closed his eyes and pretended and imagined that, perhaps if he thought hard enough, the paper could be her and he was pressing himself into her being as well.

But it was only quivered crayon, and he was only a boy who was just a little too late.

* * *

**Lendra-chan** - I'm sorry that was so sad!! ;A; I just couldn't resist. I reaaaally liked how it came out. 

PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW.

AND REVIEW MY OTHER CHAPTERS TOO:D


	7. Couch Cuddling

Lendra-chan: This be another one of the 12 days of Ichigo Torture themes from the IchiRuki forum. :D 'crouse, I posted this LONG ago, but I wanted to wait a bit before updating.

This theme was Brainwashed. :O

**Warnings**: Spoilers kind of for those who don't know about Kaien, and an Ichigo in denial.

**Disclaimers**: -sighs-…-takes out harmonica- I own no one.

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Book Six

**Couch Cuddling **

* * *

There was silence.

No words were exchanged between the two, though their stares nearly screamed in a language that only they could speak; a perfect line of connection, severed by the guillotine of the outcome.

You could hear it then; the heartbeat. It was so loud and thunderous as it pumped hot – no, it had gone cold by now – blood through his body.

Its rhythm enchanting; unchanging.

_Buh-bump_

_Buh-bump _

Just as consistent as it had been since the beginning of time.

His fists clenched; the flesh making a squeezed leather sound that seemed to enhance in his ear that fumbled and fizzed with static brimmed echoes.

He shook his head. Once – twice.

"No…"

Some believed that he hadn't said a word; that his eyes had been the source of the verbal imitation of resistance - denial.

_"No!" _

It could not be ignored that time. It was a sharp contradiction; very sharp indeed. One could almost cut themselves on the edge. Blood trickled from his fist for another reason.

"It is no use, my friend. She's already gone."

He had turned to face the voice – he didn't realize it until his eyes met the irises of the creature he had already hated before he was aware.

It was smiling and he was more sentient of it than anyone.

"Her mind belongs to me, now. She's my puppet – my precious little marionette."

Its laughter was the true depiction of the death over all hope. Fear had long since been present in that heartbeat from before. It contracted and multiplied – spreading and expanding to smother those around; drawing them into the apprehension and coating them within its shell.

And indigo eyes were drinking it all in like warm honey.

Ichigo rolled his cinnamon irises for the fifth (or was it ninth?) time and tried his best to keep his teeth from grinding.

Her eyes had not peeled from the screen since the start of the movie. But now, in her dazed and unfocused state of complete infatuation with the film, she not only shuffled over from her secluded edge of the couch to protrude on _his _cushion space, but had weaved her fingers into the fabric of his shirt sleeve; clenching and unclenching as the horror film commenced its thrills, like a cat kneading a perfectly plush pillow.

"Terrible…! How frightening!" Rukia's voice quivered as she absorbed the events of the horror movie. She clenched the fabric tightly again.

Ichigo glared at her offending hand that was holding his precious shirt sleeve hostage before shifting his glare up to Rukia's profile; attempting his best to draw the girl from he terrified reverie. It was of no use, however, as Rukia did not bother to take note of his half-hearted glower.

Ichigo would just have to endure the rarity of a scared Rukia and the unintentional clingy side affects.

"Rukia, for god sakes, you've read horror _novels_ worse than this. Besides; it was you who wanted to watch a horror movie in the first place."

Ichigo's reasoning did not penetrate through Rukia's phase. She simply remained in her gaping trance. Ichigo made to roll his eyes once again before the next scene that blasted on the TV screen had Rukia's face buried in Ichigo's arm.

Her eyes had miraculously managed to stay routed to the screen. The brainwashed woman had spoken and drove toward the protagonist male, her lover, with cold, lifeless eyes.

It finally occurred to him that, perhaps it was the possibility of being so stripped of your own free will that had her frightened. The fact that you were not in control of any aspect of your own body and would lash out at the ones you loved most. Perhaps, just perhaps, that's what had Rukia nestled so deeply into the reassuring cotton covered muscle of Ichigo's right arm.

He licked his lips off reflex and tried to clear his throat.

Half of him wanted to stay silent and just watch the rest of the movie to get it over with.

And another half, a very small, very insignificant, diminutive, but still half (he ignored that part of it) wanted to bend down and whisper into her ear that she would never be a marionette; that she would remain free of all strings, and he'd make sure of it.

Ichigo had nearly snorted at such farfetched fantasies. Rukia's actions had him loopdie-dooped off his rocker and had him thinking crazy things like whispering sweet nothings into her ear.

He did snort that time. Yeah, like_ that_ could ever happen.

He rolled his eyes just once more, and shifted into a more comfortable position to watch the movie with no distractions.

…

_Dammnit - ! _

She was nuzzling again.

* * *

**Lendra-chan: **YEY! It's fluffy and it's kyut and Rukia ish not dead like in the last chapter! XD

I can't write much at the moment due to the fact that I'm kind of on a set schedule – work out, shower, job interview, … Band Camp. Yes, Band camp. I love music. I'm probably the COOLEST PERSON THERE, WHUT. Aside from Karen. XD

Please review? Please? D:


	8. CouldBe Lovers

**Lendra-chan** : Sorry folks! I can't make much of an announcement. Over all, I'm quite frustrated with Bleach at the moment, and just how sloooow it's moving D: Ichigo's lack of attention soley on his _friends, _not even just Rukia has me rather agitated.

But if you haven't gotten that far, disregard what I said:D

Umm, anyone hear about the discontinuation of the English Dub for the anime series? Oh, I hope that doesn't last long D:

Even though I liked the Japanese more, I always enjoy the English…even if the voices are iffy from time to time.

Regardless, here's your next chapter! I'm soooo sorry this took so bloody long!

THANK YOU TO ALL OF THOSE WHO REVIEWED! AND FAVORITED…AND EVERTHING! I will message you next time, I promise! D: (Or I'll try, I've been so unorganized…)

**Disclaimer** – I have nothing to say. Proceed a wiser reader. If you do not understand…-pats shoulder- there's nothing I can do.

**Warning** – Ichigo's admittance to squawking fruitlessly in attempts to push out a pretty note in the shower, Ewan McGregor and his amazingly amazing voice D: and…maybe some OOC….

* * *

Book 7

**Could-Be Lovers**

**

* * *

**

Concentration; it was key when it came to AP English. Analysis could slip with the slightest break in focus.

Especially when it came to writing an essay on human emotion.

_Expressions…_on human emotion.

"_We could be heroes…just for one day"_

The scraping of graphite on a semi-blank sheet of paper had ceased for the moment.

"_You…you will be mean"_

The chuckle of denial that followed in the scene had cinnamon eyes drifting upward slowly from the paper; a fist kneading at the pencil in hand.

It made a weird sound – like squeezing leather in those cliché movies.

"_And I…I-I'll drink all the time…!" _

A head soon followed with the gaze to simply stare, dead-panned, at the television and the silhouette that it cupped so luminously.

"_We should be lovers-"_

The pencil snapped at that, and Ichigo's acerbic stare simply wouldn't cut it. Her back was turned anyway.

"Damnit Rukia, would you turn that thing down?"

The figure barely even straightened as she began to rock to the ascending beat of the music; the rhythm becoming quite exhilarating and passionate.

"Why?" she piped; obviously not convinced of his irritation through broken pencils alone.

Rukia always drove a brutal bargain and she wasn't about to cry over shattered graphite. Spilled milk was something already tested back in the summer and she simply made him buy her another one; whipped cream and a substitute strawberry for cherry the second time around.

_For whimsical interest in flavor! _She said.

_For the sake of being a bitch, _He said. His head throbbed seconds later and Rukia's smirk was laced with clouds of cream.

So Rukia wasn't to be tampered with lightly.

Her tango was rough and immense and occasionally, a heel would stab into the top of his foot. It was never her fault, of course.

"I can hardly hear myself think over here! Don't think that because we have the house to ourselves, you can run the speakers dry!"

"You can't run speakers dry, Ichigo!" Rukia snorted sarcastically.

"You _know _what I mean," he quipped back. He was still glaring at the back of her head and didn't know why he tried to resume a glower match with a mess of ebony locks. If he couldn't win with the eyes of sapphire, he couldn't win with the hair of ebony…which didn't even retain an expression.

How rude.

"_We should be lovers – and that's a fact!" _Ichigo shook his head fervently for the unbearably miraculous, phenomenal, unworldly (and self-esteem diminishing for Ichigo occasionally _tried _to sing in the shower when he was feeling ambitious enough) voice of Ewan McGregor was _not _singing about a functional relationship in potential regards to his own with—and Rukia did _not _just sigh at the sound of such a voice.

She didn't. No. Not at all. He was hearing things and Ewan McGregor had to shut the hell up before he got into an ego competition with the television.

"Rukia, turn. It. Down. Now." His fingers had long since woven themselves into orange tresses and tugged as if to trigger some sort of revelation that Rukia would soon realize the importance of pure concentration.

Now that was ironic.

Of course Rukia understood pure concentration – just not when it involved simply _him _and only _him. _If Ichigo was in need of concentration, she was in no way involved and thus, in no way did she care.

She was a cold bitch like that.

"_We could be heroes--!" _

"That does it!"

The echoing slam of fleshy palms against the horizon of a cherry-wood table drew Rukia from her musical reverie. She perkily cocked her head over her shoulder at the sound and was surprised to see a relatively peeved looking Ichigo stalking his way rather energetically to where she sat.

He seemed dead set on whatever it was he was determined to do, and just because Rukia completely understood Ichigo and his ever-so-mysterious expressions (that weren't so mysterious after months of analysis and exploration), she gathered up the remote and protectively held it to her chest; her lips drawn into a pout as eyebrows gullied.

His stomps were relentless even as she scuttled into a defensive position. He jabbed a hand out and barked (with no threat to bite just yet), "Hand it over."

"Never," she quipped venomously. She could have chirped it dramatically; it would still have the same affect. Ichigo lunged at her and as soon as she realized she would be so royally pinned, she held the remote at arms length and struggled against him.

It was a continuous game of cat and mouse. She'd wriggle free and scurry a few steps before Ichigo would grab a hold of some trailing garment and pull her back to him. Victory was still in her corner, however, for she kept the remote cradled in her fist.

And to piss him off further, she had mastered the art of rewind and played the same climactic section of the duet over and over, every time she could get a press of the button in.

Which was more often than Ichigo could stand for.

His hand slapped onto the cool plastic of he remote and the contrasting heat of Rukia's palm. That triggered a siren of protests from Rukia. She realized she was losing, and despite her failing efforts, her squeals of protest laced the ending with a flickering giggle and bubbles of zealous laughter.

Laughter! She was _laughing _when he was genuinely _P.Oed! _

"No, Ichigo!" She would struggle against him, and then give way to laughter in their immensely humorous predicament. He finally wrenched the remote from her grasp which earned a rather high pitched yelp from Rukia that amended the squeak with a rare burst of giggles. She struggled underneath him as he fidgeted with the clicker.

His attempts to silence the movie were proving to be futile for the moment and Rukia took full pleasure in the fruits of his self-educed karma. Her lips opened wide and she began to howl with the music (surprising Ichigo that it was, for the most part, on pitch.)

"We could be heroooooooes!"

His vein throbbed as he switched support on each elbow and tried to turn it off at a different angle. Rukia drew in a deep breath and gave another loud bellow of her voice; quite a surprising volume coming from such a little lady.

"Forever and _eveeeeeer !" _

Teeth ground tightly as he jammed a calloused thumb on the stop button one last time. Miraculous Mr. Ewan and Nicole, or rather Christian and Satine, were silenced in the middle of their duet and their accompaniment of Rukia's was left stark naked in the middle of her howling. She was barely fazed by the abrupt finale and finished her insatiable crow and un-scrunched her face to look up at Ichigo pleadingly; as if her eyes themselves were a bribe.

"C'mon, Ichigo, we could be _heroes!" _She enthusiastically exclaimed it as though it were something adventurous and influentially life-changing. She kneaded her fists into his shoulders like content little cat paws and Ichigo wondered when they had managed to untangle themselves amongst the rumpus. He repositioned himself and made to move, though stilled for a moment to simply catch his breath.

She gave him a smile as her arms lowered to lay strewn and wild above her. She lifted her chin and Ichigo lifted his, as if to match her at her game of sizing up.

"You know what, Ichigo?" Her bell-like provoke made him grip the remote harder.

She giggled again and remarked in a voice blatantly 'matter-of-fact'.

"We should be lovers."

Ichigo began clawing at the carpet above her head to scramble free. He hardened his face though quite inevitably felt the stain of blood burn his cheeks, that betraying shade of cherry red; or strawberry. Whichever made Murphy seem more akin to an ass-hole.

His expression was drawn in nearly constipated concentration (as disgusting as that seemed, Ichigo concluded), and he groaned out in a strained voice his appraisal of her suggestion.

"Nope! No, none of that! Not today!" Rukia's laughter chimed below him while he growled relentlessly and continuously groped to pull himself to safety but to no avail. Rukia chirped his name several times but Ichigo was hell-bent on escaping her snares. He was a man! He should be able to break free from the clutches of a pint-sized shinigami any day! Half the size of a regular woman and dead to boot!

But his reasoning was quelled quite hastily for Rukia had enough of being ignored while repeating his name and with enviable ease, flipped their positions. Ichigo winced for he could feel the comeuppance of possible rug burn in the near future.

When he cautiously opened his cinnamon irises, Rukia's lips twisted with a smug grin. She illuminated that 'cat-ate-canary' look perfectly and Ichigo was tempted to scoff and pout like a child. Lacing her fingers, she placed her palms just over his heart beat and rested her chin atop them. She snickered as she answered him with a voice so mockingly gentle.

"Just kidding."

As she shifted, Ichigo stretched his hand that still held the remote out high above his head just to be safe. But instead, Rukia curled up into his form as if to swirl and spiral around the calming drum of his heart beat. Ichigo couldn't decipher whether the affectionate nuzzle was something profoundly platonic or a spur-of-the-moment hype from the influence of the movie playing prior; steeped deep in the themes of love and all that.

It could have been something else, but Ichigo liked to reason that it was simply impulse and all that activity was like a lullaby for a nap.

Daringly, he nudged her with the remote and spoke with little remorse. His voice sounded funny – his Adams apple was slightly squished at the angle his neck was at.

"Rukia,…Rukia, you gotta move."

She shook her head after a moment of not responding and murmured into his chest.

"No, I don't."

Ichigo looked up with irritation as if someone loomed over him to reciprocate his frustration. He looked back down at her and muttered back, though useless.

"Yes, actually, you really do."

Her ebony locks splayed out across his chest a bit more passionately as she shook her head with more vigor.

"No, Ichigo, we're lovers; I don't need to move."

He gaped at her with utterly emphasized skepticism. When the hell was that decided? Wasn't _he _supposed to be a part of a communal decision? He didn't recall it ever being mutually determined!

He lay still, his face pulled into a rather dramatic scowl – a cross between a face twisted and braced for heavy sobbing and perhaps bursting at the seems from rage. However, Ichigo's heart lingered in neither emotion. He could feel with the tick of each second, the dropping of his essay grade in chromatic order.

He opened his mouth wide, fidgeting and ready to slip out from under her when Rukia's fingers twisted into his cotton shirt and she breathed gently.

"Wait…"

Her eyes were scoped downward like blinds ready to draw shut. But she stayed focused and kept her ear pressed against his chest. He took in a deep breath; perhaps by habit. The only time someone got close to him simply to listen was only medical and kept at the unaffectionate distance of a stethoscope.

But Rukia listened just for the sake of listening. The way her eyes seemed to search for the sound had him licking his lips that were dry all of the sudden.

He could tell immediately when she synchronized her thoughts with his heart beat. Her eyes stopped fluttering and a grin was laced on her lips. Curiosity piqued, Ichigo watched in wonder as Rukia uncurled a fist from under her chin and gently started to tap to the beat of his heart. The gentle pitter-patter of her pink finger tips were hushed against his cotton, but resonated with a hollow echo through his torso.

It was so quiet, he could hear his pulse tuning with her own beat – completely synchronized. He drew in a breath, almost hesitantly, and watched with backdrop amusement how easily she rose up with his breathing. But she kept her beat; steady and gentle. He could feel the vibrations of her vocal cords before he could hear her actual voice.

She was humming to the beat. Ichigo easily recognized the tune as a slowed down renewal of the one she bellowed before.

"_We could be heroes…forever and ever…" _Her eyes closed slowly and (were her eyelashes always that long?) Ichigo was left with no options.

He groaned and ran a hand through his hair once again. Lifting his head to stare up at the ceiling, he buzzed his lips in a horse-like sigh while he lifted the remote above his head to gaze at it. Sneaking one last glance at the girl splayed on his chest, Ichigo lolled his head backward and made to get comfortable.

He supposed he could simply still time; just for one day.

In comparison to a little fist against his jaw, the 'F' wouldn't hurt…

Much…

* * *

**Lendra-chan:** Sorry, that was so lame D: I was at a loss of how to finish this little piece! 

I can't talk long, for I'm needed for assistance; lest I get stuck with dirtier work in the evening clean up. T-T;

HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE:D

OH! BY THE WAY. There is an Ichigo x Rukia amv to this song. You can find it on YouTube if you type in IchiRuki love Medly. I found it SO long ago - it's AMAZING. UTTERLY STUPENDOUS!

And god, I laughed so hard at the end.

Watch it if you can. It's priceless. Srsly. No Jk.


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